


Star Musings

by Bwg71



Category: Homeland
Genre: Drabble, musings, season 6
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 10:53:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9231686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bwg71/pseuds/Bwg71
Summary: Just some thoughts and imaginings about post season 5, early season 6.... What might go through their minds from time to time. May or may not write more... Not sure yet....





	1. Chapter 1

A fucking _star_? Jesus.

I don’t deserve a fucking star. It wasn’t me. It was nothing to do with me. Carrie drops the official letter on the small bedside cabinet. Chokes the word out, somewhat derisively: “bravery….” and looks sadly at her only true friend, still lost, still…. away…. In all likelihood never to return.

Astrid touches her shoulder gently and she turns to look her in the eye. “Just accept the award, Carrie. It makes them feel better… to give some recognition”

“I’m not the one that should be getting the recognition. I won’t be going, Astrid. I _can’t_.”


	2. 200

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Been playing with this... May as well post it :)

"How is he?" 

"No change since you called yesterday, Astrid." Despite her heavy heart, Carrie manages a small smile, hoping to convey a measure of her gratitude, appreciation. Not for herself. Well... A little for herself... But more for him. That someone else gives even _one_ fuck... to visit, hell, to even ask. "Thankyou. For coming." 

"I wanted to. He'd do the same for me or you." 

The two women sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Then Astrid speaks: "I hope you've changed your mind about tomorrow, you should go. They're all asking for you to be there."

Carrie rises from her sentry. "Like I said, I can't. Quinn's the one who they should be thanking. He's the reason all those people are still alive." She lightly touches Quinn's temple and sighs. "He planted the seed in Qasim's mind. It was Quinn, not me."

“Carrie, I’ve read the reports, I know what you said to Qasim, down in that tunnel.” Astrid wants to tell her friend not to sell herself short, but knows there’s no point, and Carrie is quite right about Quinn, anyway. 

But no one will ever know. And that's the real tragedy here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy to hear any feedback :)


	3. 400

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been playing with this one. Might as well put it here and see what you think.

In the end, she goes anyway. Astrid tells her: "You need a break." When Carrie looks towards Quinn: "I'll sit with Peter. You don't need to worry. He won't be alone."

That seems to do the trick. "OK. I could use some time to call Frannie. And have a shower. Can I use your place, Astrid?"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

After a precious Skype call with Frannie, she speaks briefly with her sister. Maggie tells her that of course her place right now is here, with Quinn, and she mustn't worry about Frannie staying as long as needed. She understands why Carrie must remain in Germany. 

Maggie reminds Carrie that she's strong and will get through this terrible test. "But are you taking care of yourself? He'll need you to be looking after yourself." And that's where Carrie loses it - though only for a moment. She takes a shaky breath, and just gets on with it. 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

The reception is somber, and small. The Mayor of Berlin speaks briefly, shakes her hand and presents her with the small medallion. Carrie tries to look appreciative, but knows she is failing miserably. She wants to say _something_ to acknowledge Quinn's sacrifice, but cannot find adequate words, despite the fact it has been swirling around in her mind, jumbled, chaotic for weeks. So instead, she clutches the small trinket and thinks of him. 

Though all manner of politicians, dignitaries and higher-ups from the intelligence community speak reverently to her, she has never felt so alone.

Saul is there of course, but she cannot face him. Not since he came to the hospital pleading for her to come back, all the while cruelly ignoring the suffering just a few feet away.

When she feels she has stayed a respectable time, she makes to leave, but is not quick enough to avoid being accosted by her former mentor. "The offer still stands, Carrie. You have a gift. It would be stupid to waste it. I see it. They see it..." Saul looks pointedly down at the medallion

Perhaps it's the exhaustion finally kicking in after countless nights of a few hours' sleep here and there, while she alternates between quietly crying, worrying, and praying. It could be the crushing guilt. Or maybe she's just finally had enough of Saul's clueless ineptitude, his inability to see the obvious. 

And that does it: "Fuck you, Saul. Just. Fuck. You."


	4. Snoop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set somewhere between 6:03 and 6:04, in a timeline that makes a little more sense to me - in which Quinn gets clean, a little more stable, and Carrie and Quinn reach more peaceful day to day interactions. That jump (in canon) was just too quick.

Eventually, Quinn comes clean to Carrie.

Not intentionally, of course. Ordinarily he would never have been that forthcoming with something so personal. To willingly show his weaknesses to anyone. But Quinn isn’t the man he was before. Sometimes his old reserve, his once infallible self control, taut and unwavering, is just not there anymore. After yet another nightmare that wakes her despite being two floors away, it just slips out. And so he admits to Carrie the fears he harbours and the awful dream that persists. 

With that, Carrie understands his frustrating behaviour. And offers a possible solution. “We have a tub upstairs. It’s old and not very deep. If you want to give it a try, you are welcome to use it. Anytime.”

 

 

It takes a few days but Quinn knows how he reeks, and that eventually he’s going to have to try something. But the mere thought of the shower just brings out the fear and panic. So, one day while Carrie is at work and Franny at school, he sets aside his doubts, climbs the stairs and makes his way to the small ensuite bathroom. 

Like the ensuite itself, the bath is tiny, and he briefly wonders why the house’s previous owner even bothered to install it. 

Quinn struggles but opens the window as wide as he can with his good hand. The frigid November air rushes in. He runs the bath, removes his grotty sweats and places them in the bin bag he brought with him. Quinn sits on the side of the tub, then slowly, awkwardly lowers himself in.

 

 

Getting out and dried is a struggle, takes quite a time, and frankly the drying part is not that successful: he remains damp and cold. But Carrie has left him a bathrobe, and that helps. He pauses before the mirror and scrutinises the image that stares back at him. Gaunt, pale and a stranger. Thinks of the man he saw in the video a few weeks ago: a stranger, too. 

As he makes his way through her bedroom towards the doorway, he pauses to look at some photographs that fill one small wall. Numerous images of Franny, plus several of her nieces, sister and a couple of a young smiling Carrie with her father. The room is oddly homely: not what he would ever have imagined for Carrie’s bedroom. There’s a small bedside table, with another picture, this one of Carrie and Franny riding a colourful carousel horse. He returns the framed picture to its place on the table. 

In doing so, he can’t help but look at the books it holds, the watch and earrings she forgot to put on in her morning rush, and small tube of hand lotion. Before he knows it he finds himself rubbing a small amount into his skin. It’s strange… the scent is somewhat familiar, but he can’t quite place it. 

Quinn sits on the bed, and tries not to think. And suddenly he’s looking in the drawer. 

At first it’s what he would expect of Carrie. A few more books. A couple of jazz cd’s. A small box of photos of Franny as a baby. Carrie of course, does not feature. He smiles as he flicks through the contents of the second box: Franny, now older, and Carrie. He always knew Carrie would be able to love her child, he always had that faith in her. She just needed to give herself the chance. For the first time in a long time he feels good as he reaches the bottom of the small stack of pictures. 

A third, smaller box catches his eye, and he carefully takes it out. Quinn opens the lid expecting to see more evidence of Carrie’s happiness, her second chance, her redemption.

But instead he sees a small silver trinket, a star, engraved with her name. It’s attached to a thick ribbon of red, gold and black. There’s a card, dated about six months ago, a written note in beautiful script. It speaks of courage, selflessness, heroism, gratitude. 

He remembers parts of a conversation with Astrid, the day before he left Germany to return to the States. He was far from well at the time, but fragments come back to him as his fingertips stoke the cool metal of the medal. “…She stopped the attack, Peter… She figured it out when no-one else could… Put herself into harm’s way to prevent it… when no-one else believed her….”

Quinn knows that Carrie doesn’t do anything for acknowledgement, or glory, and he innately understands why this trinket would be of little consequence to her. He would be exactly the same. It went with the territory. Nevertheless, he can’t help but wonder WHAT had happened that day. What HAD Carrie done? What had happened to the cell? The man who helped him? But he knows he can never ask. For so many reasons. 

No, he will never ask.

 

 

The reverie is interrupted when he hears the front door close, followed by a jangling of keys. Quickly, Quinn places the medal back in it’s box, and the box back into the bottom drawer. He pushes the drawer shut with increasingly shaky hands and moves out of Carrie’s bedroom. Meets her at the bottom of the staircase. 

She notices that he has bathed, and he sees that she has noticed. They share awkward half smiles, but remain silent, as is their way. 

He continues on his way to the basement, and when he arrives he picks up his phone, opens the browser and types in the words “2016 Berlin sarin attack” and starts to read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope no one is upset by Quinn pushing the boundaries on Carrie's privacy. I imagine that 'snooping' is something that is just in Quinn's DNA, and I don't hold it against him for having a little look around Carrie's personal items. And I really don't think that she would be surprised.
> 
> A little shout out to Frangi Flower's lovely story "river II" part of her Train Fiction series, for those with an eye for detail :) - I absolutely loved that story, it was just beautiful.
> 
>  
> 
> This was the hardest thing I've written so far - it was tough not to be too verbose with Quinn's thoughts, because there is so much I want to say about this subject. But Quinn is a quiet guy, and at this time in his recovery, he is even more self contained and closed off. I expect he would have little or no idea of Carrie's part in stopping the attack, or any detail about it really. But I wanted him to have an understanding that she must have done something, and something quite extraordinary, at the time. 
> 
> Perhaps one day it would be wonderful for them to have the conversation I so desperately want them to have about this, where he says he knows she did SOMETHING, and where Carrie shares her distaste for the award which she feels should belong to him. And Quinn finds out what really happened. Ahh, one day. Bet they never go there on the show :)
> 
>  
> 
> Love to hear your comments.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks tons to Koala for the encouragement. 
> 
> Written in response to Koala's great 100 word 'star' drable on CQ LJ 6 Jan 2017. 
> 
> Dear Readers, Please feel free to give constructive criticism as every bit helps and might spark something else....


End file.
